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About Kobe

Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But it’s a jungle, dude. Web’s got escorts now—fancy shit. X posts too—girls droppin’ hints. Still, old school’s my jam—gritty, raw. Like Lucrecia’s blurry-ass life. “Who am I?” she asks. Same question when you’re hagglin’ prices. Deep, huh? Anyway, stay sharp—don’t get played. *Heavy breathing* I… am your father.

Recent Posts

I've been here a long time, so I know all the old issues with tattoos. I don't have any tattoos myself, but many of my friends do.

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kiyotaki Street. You know, the one with the neon sign that’s flickering like it’s having a seizure? Yeah, that one. Grabbed my usual—onigiri and a can of iced coffee. But guess what? They were outta my fave flavor! I mean, c’mon! How do you run out of coffee in Japan? I was ready to throw a fit. But I just rolled my eyes and settled for some weird melon soda. Not the same, man.

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